Sober
by Sinistra250
Summary: He knows that now is when everything between them is okay again, and he thinks as they finish their milkshakes and fries in silence that he wouldn’t trade the bumpy road they’d been down for anything in the world.


A/N: This story has a direct reference to my story _Withdrawal_, but you'll understand the story without having read it (though I recommend reading it before).

The alley is dark, dirty and full of drug users as alleys tend to be. It's perfect, just what Roy Harper—Red Arrow, actually—has been looking for. As he waits in the shadows for the dealer to show, he remembers how he was once in a very similar situation: a pathetic junkie trying to make it until his next fix, not caring where he slept, what he had to do to get the drugs or who he hurt as long as no one found out or tried to stop him.

But he had made it out, and he is now about to make sure that these junkies do too.

Their dealer finally shows up, a young, well-dressed man that looks nothing like your stereotypical drug dealer. Roy can see why he's perfect for the job—no one would ever suspect him, looking like such a nerd. Before he has a chance to collect the money and pass out the drugs, Roy quickly and quietly goes up behind the man and readies an arrow.

"You might not want to do that," he says, voice light and amiable as if he were telling a child not to take a cookie before dinner.

"Oh really? And why wouldn't—Jesus!" the man shouts as he turns and finds himself face-to-face with one of the most famous crime-fighters in the country. Roy sees him begin to sweat as a look of concentration falls over his face. He knows the man is desperately trying to think of something to tell him, an excuse to worm his way out of the situation. "Hey, buddy, I was just... uh..."

"Why don't you tell the nice officer who's offered to give you a lift down to the station? I'm sure he'd be very happy to listen," Roy suggests as he lowers his bow and throws the man into an officer's waiting arms. He watches as the two speed away, then turns back to the worried, shaking addicts to start his speech. "I was in your shoes at one point. But I got out. I got through it and so can you. Now, you've got a choice here. You can sign up for rehab and get a slap on the wrist or you can do time. Anyone for option number two? No? That's good. You can all sign up right here with this officer. Trust me, guys, you're making the smart choice."

He smiles at them before taking off, knowing that his words mean nothing to them now. But he hopes that most, if not all of them will eventually be able to see that he wasn't just another clueless government agent. He hopes they will be able to see that he is telling the truth, that he knows where they had been—that he had been there himself—and that they could do what he had done and _make something_ of themselves.

"That was nice, back there."

Roy stops but doesn't turn as he hears someone behind him. The voice is familiar, very much so, and he takes a deep breath before responding. "Thanks. It's been a while, Ollie."

"It has," the man agrees, and Roy turns around to face him. His mentor stands there, impossibly tall for being only a few inches taller than Roy is, and looking almost exactly as he did the last time Roy saw him up close two years ago. Roy doesn't know what to say to him, so he doesn't say anything. Knowing that he would be out-waited if it came to that, Ollie clears his throat and says, "It's good to see you."

"You too," answers Roy, though he thinks that it would be nicer to see Ollie without the mask and the tights.

Ollie shifts uncomfortably, which Roy knows is a sure sign that the man is about to say something personal. Without fail, he says, "I've missed you."

Roy doesn't know how to react to that. He could smile or cry or hug the other man, he doesn't know. Instead he stands there for a moment, then says, "I've missed you too, Ollie." Roy is surprised to find how much he means it. "A lot."

"Maybe... we could talk somewhere? Without these?" Ollie gestures to their costumes and Roy gives him a small smile and a nod. _It's like you read my mind,_ he thinks.

"Yeah," he answers. "That would be great."

"Why don't we meet at that diner over on fifth street?" suggests Ollie. "Remember that place?" Roy nods.

"Of course I do," he says. Ollie smiles at him. "Be there in a half an hour." The blonde man nods. Speedy leaves, making sure to take the long way to his apartment just in case Ollie's watching him. _Having him know where I live might be a little __**too**__ awkward for me to suffer through_, he thinks with a grimace.

He changes into civilian clothes quickly and gears up his motorcycle. Roy grins, knowing that him riding a bike like this always made Ollie nervous, especially when he didn't use a helmet. Roy arrives just after Ollie—he can see the man sitting down through the glass. He smiles, seeing that Ollie sat at the table they always used to use.

Roy walks in and gives a smile to the woman at the counter. He remembers her from several years ago when he and Ollie would come here every Saturday night after their patrol. He slides into the booth across from Ollie. Both are silent for a moment, and Roy fiddles with his menu. Neither one needs to look at them, so there isn't much to do to avoid having a conversation.

"I... Bats told me you're planning on joining the Justice League," Ollie says. He keeps his voice down even though they're alone in the diner. Roy nods, but doesn't reply, seeing the waitress heading over. They order quickly, and Roy is surprised that she remembers their usual orders—they haven't been there in quite some time together.

Once she disappears behind the counter again, Roy answers, "Yeah, I took it up with J'onn a few weeks ago. He thinks it's a good idea." Ollie is staring at the table, refusing to look at him. The silence is awkward, but then Ollie clears his throat and Roy recognizes the sign of another personal comment about to come.

"I think it is too," says Ollie. "We could use you." He sneaks a glance at Roy, who's grinning at him.

"Thanks, Ollie," Roy says, and tries to ignore the way the man's name doesn't feel right on his tongue anymore. Not since he started calling the man "Dad" in his thoughts. He shifts, and swears internally as he realizes it's another habit he picked up from Ollie. "That... means a lot to me."

"No problem, kid," the older man replies gruffly, no doubt trying to counter the tenderness of his previous comment. Roy's smile widens despite himself. He's forgotten how awkward Ollie can be, trying to pull off his tough-guy image and be a father at the same time. Not that they've ever referred to each other as father and son out loud, of course. On sudden impulse, Roy decides to change that.

"When I was in the hospital," he starts, and doesn't stop despite the surprised intake of breath from Ollie. They've never properly _talked_ about his addiction, not even when he got out of the hospital. Then Ollie had pretended that Roy had been sick, and Roy had let him until he had grown too tired of it and left. Here and now, in this diner, Roy decides that there are things that just have to be said.

He begins again, and doesn't stop this time. "When I was in the hospital, and I had a fever, I had this dream. You were there, and I was still overdosing. You said... you said that I was a disappointment and that you were ashamed of me." Roy gives a tight smile and looks out the window. He closes his eyes as he tells Ollie the next part, the part he's almost been dreading. "When I woke up, I heard the nurse telling the doctor that the fever must be pretty bad for me to be so confused. Apparently I was saying 'Dad' in my sleep, and I'd already told her that my father is dead. But I wasn't confused. I wasn't talking about him. I was..." He takes a breath to steady himself. "I was talking about you, Ollie."

There is silence following this confession, and Roy wonders if he pushed too far too soon. Then he hears Ollie mumble a soft "thanks" and realizes that the waitress has brought their food and customary milkshakes. She leaves, and Roy continues to stare out the window at the people passing by. He hears Ollie sliding out of the booth and his stomach does flip-flops, thinking he'd just blown it. Then there's someone sliding onto the seat beside him, and he feels two strong arms wrap around him in a gentle yet firm hug. He turns to face Ollie and wraps his arms around the other man's midsection.

"You are _not_ a disappointment and I'm very proud of what you've done with yourself, Roy," Ollie says softly in his ear. "Son." Roy laughs quietly, relieved.

"Thanks, Dad," he answers. Neither realizes how much they had needed to hear those words, the small yet mind-blowing confirmation that their feelings were returned.

Slowly, Ollie releases him and Roy does the same. The red-head is surprised to find that Ollie's eyes are shining with tears and there's a large, happy smile on his face. The man blinks them away quickly, and Roy pretends he never saw them.

"When we're done here," Ollie starts rather hesitantly, "Why don't you come home with me?" Roy nods.

"I'd like that," he answers. He knows that now is when everything between them is okay again, and he thinks as they finish their milkshakes and fries in silence that he wouldn't trade the bumpy road they'd been down for anything in the world.


End file.
